


apple slices for the soul

by rocketshiptospace



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic, they talk about pre sliced apples a lot for some reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketshiptospace/pseuds/rocketshiptospace
Summary: Ryan sniffles miserably, and burrows himself deeper into the pillows of his couch. He could really use something to drink, preferably a nice cup of tea, but that would require him getting up, which is something that is just very much not happening right now. The TV is playing some lame home decorating program that is honestly grating on his nerves, but he lost the remote control about an hour ago and he genuinely can’t be bothered to find it.Overall, Ryan’s not having a really great day.Or, Ryan's sick and Shane comes to the rescue. Things go haywire when Ryan accidentally confesses something he maybe shouldn't have.





	apple slices for the soul

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a short drabble about the insta story ryan posted in which he said he was sick today and then it... kind of got away from me. anyway, a shyan sick fic, because we can never have enough of those.

Ryan sniffles miserably, and burrows himself deeper into the pillows of his couch. He could really use something to drink, preferably a nice cup of tea, but that would require him getting up, which is something that is just very much not happening right now. The TV is playing some lame home decorating program that is honestly grating on his nerves, but he lost the remote control about an hour ago and he genuinely can’t be bothered to find it.

Overall, Ryan’s not having a really great day.

He’s just about considering getting up anyway, because he _really_ wants that cup of coffee, when the door of his apartment suddenly opens. Shane appears, looking disheveled and flushed, like he ran here, holding a bag of groceries. “Shane?” Ryan asks, voice rasping, not entirely convinced Shane isn’t a fever dream. His entire being seems too good to be true on any given day, let alone when Ryan is alone and sick and miserable.

“Hey Ryan,” Shane smiles softly at him, and takes of his shoes and coat. “How’re you feeling, buddy? Steven told me you’d called in sick.” The ‘why didn’t you tell me’ goes unspoken, but Ryan winches anyway. He didn’t tell Shane for obvious reasons, mostly because he doesn’t want Shane to see him this gross and pathetic. But, well, too late now.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. Being sick, maybe. Maybe for not telling Shane.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane waves it away, “I brought you soup.” He adds, and Ryan can’t help but let out a quiet wheeze.

“Soup? Where did you get that idea? A how to guide for sick people?”

Shane frowns at him, “Actually I called my mom,” he says, and Ryan genuinely can’t tell if he’s serious or not. If he is, that’s kind of endearing. Ryan’s heart makes a weird flip, which is unfortunate, because he absolutely does not have the mental capability to deal with _feelings_ right now.

“I just…” He pauses. Shane is here, and he brought soup, and Ryan is in love with him, and he’s not sure how to deal with any of these things right now, so instead he just says, “I could really use some tea right about now.”

“One tea, coming up!” Shane says, and disappears into the kitchen. As he leaves the room, Ryan realizes he never even considered asking Shane _why_ he is here, because of course he is. It’s another reason why Ryan didn’t tell him he was sick.

When Shane comes back he’s holding a cup of rooibos tea, Ryan’s favorite. Ryan immediately scoots over to make room for Shane and he falls down next to Ryan on the couch, immediately lifting Ryan’s feet in his lap, his hands resting on Ryan’s ankles. He’s rubbing his fingers in soft circular motions and Ryan’s hums contently as he wraps his hands around his mug of tea. “Do you think ghosts ever get sick?” he murmurs, while Shane pulls the remote control from god knows where and starts changing the channels in search for something more engaging.

“They’re ghosts Ryan,” Shane says, soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Of course they don’t get sick. They don’t exist.”

“What if they do, though.”

“But they don’t.”

Ryan huffs. “If I die I’m going to come back as a ghosts and sneeze on you all the time just to prove you wrong on _both_ fronts.”

Shane snorts, and settles on a rerun of CSI. “Technically, I never said ghosts couldn’t get sick. I just said they can’t get sick because they don’t _exist_.” He pauses. “Maybe all those weird noises you always hear on the EVP are just ghosts having the hiccups.”

“Ha!” Ryan exclaims, triumphant, sloshing a bit of tea over the edge of his mug, spilling it over his blanket, “So you admit those are ghost noises!”

Shane, realizing he clearly just backed himself in a corner here, ignores Ryan completely and dives back in his grocery bag. “Here, have an apple.” He hands Ryan a container with pre-cut apple slices.

“Did you,” Ryan says, swallowing around a lump in his throat, “Did you actually cut these in slices before you got here?”

Shane scrunches up his nose, still clearly allergic to the notion of _caring_ , and says, “No. Yes. Maybe.”

“Thanks,” Ryan says up, smiling softly at Shane. Shane, who came over as soon as he heard Ryan was sick. Shane, who _called his mom_ to ask her what he would need to take care of a sick person. Shane, who made him tea. Shane, who sat with him and rubbed his ankles and made him laugh. Shane, _who pre-cut apple slices just for him_.

“I love you,” he blurts out, and then immediately considers drowning himself in his cup of tea.

Shane’s face goes through a range of emotions, eventually settling on something that resembles confusion. “That’s. Okay, yeah, that’s. Okay.” He says, which is about the most useless response Ryan has ever gotten to telling someone he loves them. Not that he has said it to a lot of people, but like, in the overall spectrum of ‘I love you’s this is pretty bad.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean it to come out that way, I mean, I don’t love you, no actually, I’m not going to lie, I do love you, I just, I didn’t mean to tell you but like, I’m exhausted and my bones feel mushy and my head is full of fucking snot, which is like the _epitome_ of unsexy but still you are here and you are smiling and you’re kind and you brought soup and _pre-sliced apples_ and I just, I don’t really know what to do with all that right now,” Ryan rambles, desperately wishing he had been blessed with a brain to mouth filter when he was born.

“Those pre-sliced apples really threw you for a loop, didn’t they?” Shane says, laughing nervously, and Ryan doesn’t know what to _do_.

Preferably he would like for the earth to open up and swallow him whole, which unfortunately seems unlikely to happen. His other options are equally unlikely to happen, as he is in no shape or form capable of getting up from the couch right now, and suffocating himself in the pillows seems like a quite final solution. “Yeah,” he eventually says, because there’s still this silence hanging between them, this weird silence in which Shane is just _looking_ at him, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I, uh, I love you, too.” Shane eventually says, completely unexpectedly, looking away from Ryan for the first time since his confession. “I just.. I don’t think I ever expected you to love me back, so uh, that… that was a bit of a shock to process. But. Yeah. I love you.” He finally looks up at Ryan, who’s just staring at him, and tentatively reaches out to brush his fingers over Ryan’s forehead.

“Oh,” Ryan says, because of course this is when his brain decides to abandon him completely.

“Even now,” Shane continues, “You look miserable and honestly I should probably find it disgusting but all I want to do is wrap you up in blankets and hold you close and kiss you and never let you go.”

Ryan frowns at him, “You think I’m disgusting?”

“ _That’s_ what you take away from that?” Shane asks, incredulous. “That’s not even what I _said_! I said I should, _probably_ , find you disgusting, especially since you’re wearing that shirt with the questionable stains but instead I-“

But Shane gets cut off by Ryan, who has lurched forward and kisses him full on the mouth. “I think you’re disgusting, too,” he mutters against Shane’s lips when they pull away, and they both burst out in laughter.

The laughter is mostly relieve, relieve that they both feel the same way, that they can kiss and touch and tell each other how they feel without worrying about what the other is going to think.

Ryan launches himself into another coughing fit right after Shane has kissed him for a second time, and Shane immediately gets up to get him more tea (with honey, this time) and heat up some soup. When he comes back, they curl up on the couch together and watch crime serious and horror movies until Ryan falls asleep, softly snoring on Shane’s shoulder.

(A few days later, Shane gets sick too. Ryan apologizes profusely, brings him soup and pre-sliced apples, and continues to pester him with theories about ghosts with colds. Shane has never loved anyone more then he does in that moment.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> folow me on tumblr [here](http://violetevents.tumblr.com) :)


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